


Who Wants To Live Forever?

by all-or-nothing-baby (BundleOfSoy)



Series: Forever [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, Cas' Musical Education, Casterbation, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Dean's Everything, Castiel Loves Dean's Freckles, Castiel Takes Care of Castiel, Castiel Wants Dean Winchester, Castiel fantasizes about Dean Winchester, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Castiel's Grace, Castiel's Nickname is Cas (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester Smut, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Loves Pie, Dean Winchester's Freckles, Dean Winchester's Soul, Dean's Cas, Existentialism, Freckles, Green Eyes, Inspired by Music, It's the little things, M/M, Masturbating Castiel (Supernatural), Masturbation, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Pining Castiel (Supernatural), Queen (Band) References, Quote: I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. (Supernatural), Romantic Angst, Romantic Castiel (Supernatural), Self-Love, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Smut, Song Lyrics, cassette tapes, philosophising, romantic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BundleOfSoy/pseuds/all-or-nothing-baby
Summary: ~touch my world with your fingertips~Dean is Castiel's world."I will want Dean Winchester forever."I will. I do, I want Dean. I want to be alone with him. I want to trace my thumb across his high cheekbone; to feel that rough-velvet auburn stubble against my face; to card fingers through soft spikes of walnut hair; feel warm breath on my mouth; to capture Dean's plump lips between my own and to kiss him hard and soft and everything in between and to taste him. Oh, yes, I want to taste Dean. Taste all of him. I want to learn and know his taste like I know my own grace; to savour it then devour it and for it to become a part of me, forever…Castiel swallows thickly and the action causes him to think of Dean's throat, Dean's adam's apple, Dean's clavicle.There's now a familiar warmth growing inside of Castiel, as his grace fizzes just beneath his skin--as it always does when he thinks of touching Dean... in that way.ORThe one where Cas listens to a gay icon sing and then considers existentialism, while "philosophising" over Dean's freckles.





	Who Wants To Live Forever?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaltyWords (agent4hire22)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/gifts), [cutelittlekitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutelittlekitty/gifts).



> Inspired by the Queen song "Who Wants To Live Forever", this began its life as a Tumblr ficlet around six months ago I then toyed around with the idea of doing something more with it...finally, I did. It's been heavily edited and also extended by about 2,500 words. It's now the start of a series which will have four chapters in total (I think) but will each also read as stand-alone pieces in their own right (hopefully!). So, if you likey, watch this space because there's more of The Good Ship Destiel from this canon divergent universeon the way... ahoy!
> 
> Dedicated to Kitty and Jackie:
> 
> For KITTY: because your completely brilliant 'Heavenly Body' series (a gorgeous collection of Destiel and Sabriel works) with a wonderfully portrayed Literal!Cas--especially in 'Physique of a Greek Statue'--breathed life into my own Cas here, in what was my first Castiel POV fic.
> 
> For JACKIE: because without your kind words and awesome encouragement, I would never have mustered the guts to upload my shit on here or Tumblr in the first place; and I now here I am with twenty-two works (at the time of publication). So, this is a huge-as-Cas'-true-form thank you to you, dude. You fucking rock.
> 
> EVERYONE: Go check out these two^ exceptional authors (I'm a dumbass who doesn't know how to link stuff, apologies) if you haven't already because their writing is spectacu-lacu-lar, as a prescribed-drug-high-as-a-hippy Sam Winchester would say.

The cassette tape Dean loaned Castiel finishes with a hissing after the last song ends. It too then disappears, more abruptly, when the **_PLAY_ ⏯ **button on Dean's old personal Walkman springs upwards with a _click_.

Castiel takes off the headphones carefully and winds the wire around the outdated music player, which he places on the small wooden table beside the bed he doesn't sleep on. His room in the bunker is really just a place of contemplation and solitude. And privacy, occasionally.  
  
The album he's just listened to--after being strongly encouraged by Dean--is called _"A Kind of Magic"_ by a band named _Queen._ He doesn't understand if these titles have any meaning, but Dean had wanted him to partake in the experience and that was enough for Castiel.  
  
The practice of Dean sharing his musical tastes with Castiel has come to be known as _Cas' Musical Education_ \--it's what Dean has named his habit of loaning and entrusting him with beloved cassette tape after cassette tape, while highlighting particular songs to which he should give extra special attention. Dean often throws in a _Pop Quiz_ over morning coffee, so he knows which albums Castiel has been listening to.  
  
Castiel listens to them all.  
  
This morning, the lyrics to one particular song are resonating in his mind.

  
**_  
_ ** **_*_**

  
**_There's no time for us_**  
**_  
_ _There's no place for us_**

**_What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us?_ **

**_*_ **

  
  
**_Who wants to live forever?_ **  
_  
_ **_Who wants to live forever?_**

**_*_ **

  
  
**_There's no chance for us_ **  
_  
_ **_It's all decided for us_**

**_This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us_**

**_*_ _  
_ **

  
**_Who wants to live forever?_ **  
  
**_Who wants to live forever?_ **  
  
**_Who dares to love forever_ **  
_  
_ **_When love must die?_**

**_*_ **

  
  
**_But touch my tears with your lips_**  
  
**_Touch my world with your fingertips_**  
  
**_And we can have forever_**  
  
**_And we can love forever_**  
**_  
_ _Forever is our today_**

**_*_ **

  
  
**_Who wants to live forever?_ **  
  
**_Who wants to live forever?_ **  
_  
_ **_Forever is our today_**

**_*_ **

  
_  
_ **_Who waits forever anyway?_**

**_*_ **

****  
  
That word...  
  
_Forever._  
  
Castiel, more than most, understands the gravitas of the lexeme.  
  
As a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent--one of God's divine entities forged from light and pure creation; from long before the solar system was shaped; from before time itself as humans know it came into being--Castiel is old.  
  
In mortal understanding, he has existed for a simply unfathomable period. And, unless he is annihilated, he'll go on existing for possibly even longer. 

**_Who wants to live forever?_ **

The lyric floats around Castiel's mind now as the vibrations of the musical notes had drifted down his ear canals when listening to the song.

He really does have a solid comprehension of that word.  
  
_Forever_.  
  
_Without ever ending; eternal._

Does Castiel actually _want_ to live for what could be forever? To go on for all of time and possibly even after that… _alone?_ It was something he had never even contemplated, before the Winchesters. Before he had a _real_ family.

As is often the case, people seem to interpret the meaning of the word forever with a slightly different slant to it's true meaning--a very _human_ slant.

Castiel reaches across the bedside table, over the Walkman, and picks up one of the dictionaries he has on permanent loan from the Bunker's library. Finds the desired page.  
  
_________________________________________________  
  
**forever** /fəˈrɛvə/ adverb  
  
1\. For all future time; for always.  
  
_"She would love him forever."_  
  
2\. Continually.  
  
_"They are forever on the move."_  
  
_________________________________________________  
  
Castiel ruminates over the definitions as he lays down the small book beside him on the mattress. He doesn't think much of them.  
  
The first explanation is, to be fair, the most accurate. But the example given is simply not possible, as humans have a veritably limited life span. Castiel also finds the chosen scenario strangely and unnecessarily heteronormative.  
  
The second of the two is just completely unrealistic, seeing as that type of perpetual motion is only achievable by the large fish known as sharks.  
  
Over the last dozen centuries or so, Castiel has noted something odd about the way humans communicate, in that most of them have a tendency to twist and bastardize the very languages they toiled to develop in their infancy as a species. He's never quite understood how or why his Father's most accomplished creation has come to convey information in this convoluted fashion.  
  
_At least, that is, before Dean._  
  
In the years spent with the Winchesters, Castiel has attempted and often failed to grasp nuanced human concepts. He has struggled through many seemingly irrelevant conversations. But, thanks to a plethora of frankly confusing exchanges with Dean--and, indeed, some with Sam--he has slowly learned that the use of exaggeration is a somewhat unnecessary yet favoured linguistic tool used in everyday speech. It seems to be fondly practiced, according to Dean, in what would otherwise be highly mundane interactions. Or, as Dean had put it when trying to explain to Castiel, _you gotta be sexin' up that vanilla gelato with strawberry sauce, Cas--life's too short to be a Plain Jane..._  
_  
_ Humans lives _are_ short. Frighteningly short if you're an angel who will live, arguably, forever--and you are... attached.

**_Who dares to love forever_ ** ****  
**_  
_ ** ******_When love must die?_**

More errant lyrics waft into Castiel's mind, as innocent as a ladybug caught on a strong summer breeze. But there's an unwanted idea clinging to the words, just like the parasitic wasp larva which secretly attaches itself to the ladybug, then waits patiently to hatch--and eventually eats away at its host.

 ****  
**_  
_ ** ******_It's all decided for us_**

Castiel clenches his teeth and closes his eyes, attempting to dislodge the mental itch that particularly dark thought brings: an ardent and persistent worry over his Father's ineffable plan.

Tentatively, Castiel lifts his lids. He decides instead to mull over the much lighter thought that is the message behind Dean's gelato analogy--which he remembers Dean having to explain at the time was, in fact, an analogy.

Shifting and getting a little more comfortable on his bed, Castiel ruminates.

He rather likes strawberry sauce. The way the molecules are arranged is actually quite pleasing. Not _nearly_ as good as grape jelly alongside peanut butter, but pleasant nonetheless. However, he understands that in this instance the strawberry sauce was being used as a metaphor for _enlivenment_. Also, Castiel guesses the name utilized in the phrase was purposely chosen for its rhyming quality when combined with the word _plain_. And no, now he thinks about it, he does not think he wants to be compared to somebody called Jane he isn't even acquainted with.

So, maybe Castiel _could_ try out a little exaggeration. For the purposes of appearing less formal. To see if he can _loosen the Fort Knocks knot on that holy accountant necktie_ , as is Dean's frequent requisition.  
  
_Hmm._  
  
Generally speaking, Castiel aims to pass for human most days. Admittedly, his _'people skills'_ are a lot less _'rusty'_ than they had once been, but ongoing self-improvement is an admirable trait.  
  
_Dean has taught me that_.  
  
Sat on his bed in the bunker, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, Castiel ponders.  
  
_Forever._  
  
After a few moments of uncertainty and another of hesitation, Castiel clears his throat, then begins to mutter quietly to himself:  
  
"Sometimes, it feels like a hunt can take forever."  
  
_Well, that just sounds preposterous._  
  
He tries again, for prosperity's sake, voice a shade more gruff than usual with his hushed tone. Castiel does not need his experiment broadcast throughout the bunker's corridors. 

"I will fight for Dean and Sam forever."  
  
_As they are the best men I know and I love them both dearly._  
  
Castiel's jawbone ticks. Maybe he could hear himself say this, even if it is technically incorrect.  
  
"Dean and Sam will forever have my protection."  
  
_Because they are the greatest of all human beings, continually striving for the protection of every single soul on this planet. And, to me, Dean is the_ most _wonderful being in all of creation._  
_  
_ Castiel tilts his head, gazing at the spider residing in the corner of his room. It's a domestic house spider--a cellar spider to be exact, true latin name Pholcidae. Or _daddy long-legger,_ he's heard Dean call them--and occasionally use the title to mock his brother. Their limbs certainly are out of proportion with their bodies but Castiel has no idea where the arachnid earned the paternal portion of its title.

For the past four days, Castiel has been gathering flies to feed the spider. After talking to Sam, he watched a video on YouTube about how to build a device from a mason jar and string using vinegar and sugar to attract the insects required for the spiders sustenance. See, there are no windows in the underground Men of Letters bunker, therefore unless the Pholcidae finds its way back out again, it will perish. Castiel knows this is a commonplace occurrence these days but, before humans were put on the Earth, the tiny thing would not have suffered the unnatural fate of being trapped inside a concrete Death Prison--that kind of end should _not_ be an option for a _daddy long-legger._

So, Castiel helps.

He wonders if the spider knows he is being cared for. He also wonders if, after everything they've been through together, Dean is still uncertain of Castiel's feelings toward him. Castiel is as certain as he is of Dean loving pie.

Castiel clears his throat again.  
  
"The other day we had to wait forever for the server to bring out our burger order from the kitchen."  
  
_Well, no, obviously not... But I suppose it was a rather long interval between ordering the food and the food arriving--especially in comparison to the previous time we ordered burgers from that particular diner._  
  
Castiel rolls his eyes not unkindly at the memory of Dean with ketchup around his mouth, even after trying to wipe it clean with a napkin. Castiel had to get it for him in the end, swiping the glob of sauce away with his thumb and licking it clean--causing Dean to scowl and Sam to snigger, for some reason.  
  
"I've been meaning to catch up on the latest season of Game of Thrones for forever."  
  
_Dean does keep bugging me about it as he vehemently wants to know my opinion on who will end up claiming said throne. And I do very much enjoy our discussions--and, indeed, all of the time Dean and I spend together, even when we do nothing in particular._  
  
Castiel smiles fondly. Doing nothing in particular with Dean is actually his favourite pastime.

**_This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us_ **

Castiel chews on his bottom lip--he often sees Dean doing the same--as another unwarranted lyric echoes ghostly in his mind. Does he actually believe the same applies to him and Dean? Why do they only make their feelings towards one another known at the most dire of occasions? Why should it only be death that brings forth reasons for living?

Castiel looks to the spider in the corner of his room again and sits up straighter.

Even if Dean never reciprocates Castiel's feelings, every moment spent with him is sacred and Castiel treasures each and every one of them.  
  
"It feels like forever when Dean and I are apart."  
  
_This is inaccurate, yet... surprisingly accurate. Being away from Dean is like losing myself, losing the Castiel I have become. In the ten years I have known the Winchesters, Dean has changed me irrevocably--no, not changed me,_ helped _me to become_ so _much more than I ever was. He makes me feel more. More than I was, more than I am. He makes me feel_ wanted _. Dean makes me feel… good. When I'm_ not _with him, it's as though I'm missing pieces of who I am..._

 _When I am with Dean, my grace and my human body seem to meld as one, fully, and I am... complete. My every cell and emotion craves closeness to_ _his overwhelming humanity and ridiculous humour and beautiful soul and unique and utterly perfect face…_

 _So yes, time spent apart from Dean somehow_ does _feel like forever._  
  
Castiel's brow knits. He knows the feeling of being apart from Dean all too well--and wishes with all of his celestial might that he didn't.  
  
"Dean is forever in my thoughts."  
  
_Actually, he is. He always has been, since the moment I first took in the sight of his vibrant and glittering soul, which glowed fiercely like a beacon, even in the blackened bowels of Hell. Dean's blazing soul immediately filled me with a kind of wonder I had never known... and from that second, I simply could not stop thinking about him--then, and single every moment after. And now, it's always. Even when I'm thinking of other things, Dean is just... there, ever present in my mind. Even when I also want to beat the stubborn shit out of him, thoughts of how much he means to me are always there ... and I know_ _inherently those desires will_ absolutely not _cease. Not ever._

  
Castiel takes a practiced, now-second-nature breath.  
  
"I will revere Dean forever."  
  
_Because how could I not? Dean is special. He is, at his core, selfless and inherently good. He displays a genuine concern for the wellbeing of all of those around him, above even himself. And, for some reason, he has always taken a particular interest in my own safety, as no other has before him or since. Even in those times I have given him good reason to ostracize me, Dean has always forgiven all of my omissions, my mistakes, my sins--of which the counts are many--and he_ still _wants me by his side..._  
  
_Dean has helped me to understand both my weaknesses and my strengths and for this--and all the other gifts he had bestowed upon me--I will be forever in his debt..._  
  
_Dean Winchester is the bravest, most caring, most bounteous and magnificent of all of my Father's creatures..._  
  
_Yes, I will truly revere Dean forever._  
  
Castiel takes another, deeper, breath as he pictures Dean's face.  
  
"A map of Dean's freckles will be forever imprinted on my memory."  
  
Castiel smiles softly at this.  
  
_This is entirely factual, considering I have looked upon Dean's face more times than anything else in my existence. Therefore, I know those perfect imperfections like I know the exact patterns of coral formations in the earth's oceans; like I know each individual crater on this planet's moon; as well as I know every constellation of stars in all of the galaxies in the universe--and if I_ do _live forever, I know I will never, ever forget them._  
  
_Castiel_ closes his eyes.  
  
"Dean's eyelashes go on forever."  
  
_It is true that they're longer than most human males. And they are so very, very pleasing to look at. They seem as if their softness would rival the down feathers of the celestial wings which were once a part of me, and this--combined with the orthogonal trajectory of the curves--makes me want to touch them very much as they look like they'd feel… sensuous._  
  
Castiel licks his lips, turning them a slightly darker shade of pale.

  
**_But touch my tears with your lips_**

**_Touch my world with your fingertips_ **

  
Dean _is_ Castiel's world.

Castiel swallows thickly and the action causes him to think of Dean's throat, Dean's adam's apple, Dean's clavicle.  
  
"I will want Dean Winchester forever."  
  
_I will. I do, I_ want _Dean. In fact, I want Dean very badly and have done for an indeterminate amount of time, maybe since the beginning. It's a feeling which initially confused me, believing it to merely be a symptom of my vessel. But this body is now entirely my own--and I_ still _want Dean, more than ever. I now know that will not ever change. Yes, I will want Dean forever..._  
  
_I will forever want for Dean to be happy, and I want to be the one who gives him a special kind of happiness, that only I can give... I want Dean to always be close, to be able to hold him and forever keep him safe from harm--even if I know that is not actually possible... And yes, even if I know I cannot, I want to spend every moment I have with Dean..._

 _I want to truly_ be _with him; for him to be mine and me to be his, forever… My grace wants to surround him and fill him up, taking away all of his pain and sadness, making him whole, making him feel wanted, making him feel so good..._  
_  
_ _I want to be alone with Dean... I want to trace my thumb across his high cheekbone; to feel that rough-velvet auburn stubble against my face; to card fingers through soft spikes of walnut hair; feel warm breath on my mouth; to capture Dean's plump lips between my own and to kiss him hard and soft and everything in between and to taste him. Oh, yes, I want to taste Dean, taste all of him. I want to learn and know his taste like I know my own grace; to savor it then_ devour _it and for it to become a part of me, forever…_

Castiel realises what initially begun as an experimental sexing up of his everyday patter, has evidently swiftly evolved into a sexing up of Castiel's senses.  
  
He finds the blunt nails of his right fingers and thumb scrunched into the navy material of his suit pants; those of his left hand brushing idly against his lips. Castiel's whole body is awake. There's the familiar warmth growing inside of him and his grace is fizzing just beneath his skin, as it always does when he thinks of touching Dean in _that_ way.

_Fuck, I want to give Dean all the pleasure he deserves. All of it and more…_

Even swearing in his internal monologue makes Castiel feel dirty and aroused. Makes him sound like _Dean_.  
  
_Yes, I want so much_ more _of Dean. I want to experience touching more of the beautiful, breakable skin on his delicate human body, to touch him for longer than the time it takes to heal him or bandage his wounds when he won't let me. I want to feel his hand in my own, to brush his broken knuckles against my lips. And I want to touch those parts of him which are new and taboo to me; Dean's soft stomach, the sensitive parts of his inner thighs, the exquisite arc of Dean's backside... Yes, I--I want to slide my hands down inside of his…_

Castiel scrambles to grab lube and tissues from the draw of his bedside table. Unzipping his pants, he fumbles, navigating his erection from his underwear and taking himself in hand. The lube quickly applied, he begins to touch himself, badly wishing it was _Dean_. Too worked up to start slow in the way he usually enjoys, he rubs his thumb-pad over the end of his penis-- _no, cock; Dean would call it his cock--a_ few times and spreads the lube around, then squeezes himself firmly at the base. Then Castiel closes his eyes again and begins to pump, strong and steady, thoughts of _Dean Dean Dean_ returning instantly to his mind.

There are now images of the naked hunter, laying next to him on his side, propped up by an elbow and so hard for Castiel. Yes, pressing into Castiel's thigh. As Castiel strokes his own cock, it's now _Dean's_ hand which is wrapped around him; _Dean_ who is fisting Cas' already leaking dick like it's the most important task of his life; _Dean_ is the one trying not to groan his runaway-need as he grabs Cas' balls with his other hand and caresses and kneads with intent; _Dean_ who is alternating between biting Cas' bottom lip and laving over it with warm, wet tongue; it's _Dean_ who's twisting the stroke at Cas' cock-end, just the way Cas likes; _Dean's_ hand that's moving faster and faster as Cas' want and desire builds and builds to an intense and exhilarating forgone conclusion, like nothing Castiel had ever experienced as an Angel of The Lord; like music and art and fire and ice and freckles and green eyes and pure fucking ecstacy and… Castiel comes silently, biting down on his quivering lip, all that want now shooting out of him in hot, white spurts, with the thought of Dean's lascivious gaze locked with his own.

_duphf-duphf-duphf_

Castiel's eyes fly open and soar to his bedroom door.

"Cas? Yeah, s'me. You ready, buddy?"

_Dean._

Castiel prays to his Father for his voice to come out even.

"Uh, yes. Just...a moment."

 _Thank God._  
  
His iron will urges his still twitching cock to calm. Human limbs can be... _difficult_ , at times like these.

Folding the tissues tighter around the mess, he quickly and efficiently cleans up and uncomfortably squashes his semi-hard self back into his pants.  
  
Momentarily forgetting the urgency of the situation, Castiel briefly wonders, not for the first time, whether Dean experiences romantic and sexual thoughts similar to his own. Dean _does_ often display a kind of yearning towards Castiel, expressed in prolonged looks and warm touches. And sometimes there are instances that could be considered as romantic or lustful body language, such as the lump he often catches bobbing in Dean's gorgeous throat as he swallows thickly--nervously?--when Castiel is near; the way Dean's pupils dilate and his heart rate increases when Castiel is in close proximity...  
  
But _what if I'm wrong?_

If Dean does indeed feel even a little of what Castiel feels, he has never spoken of it. And it's so very frustratingly difficult, not knowing; being unsure.

 _I_ need _to be sure… but how can I know for certain if Dean wants--_

Another two knocks.  
  
"Hey Cas, you comin', or what? Feels like I've been waitin' forever for you, man."  
  
Castiel goes to speak but as his lips part he becomes rigid and the words stick in his throat as if maybe they're too big to leave him. His mouth suddenly rivals the Sahara at hearing Dean's choice of words, _I've been waiting forever for you._  
  
_Forever._  
  
Castiel narrows his eyes, head tilting slightly.  
  
_Then maybe forever is just too long to wait, Dean_... he almost says out loud.  
  
Silence.  
  
Dean's voice is then so very small, it's barely a whisper.  
  
"Yeah, don't I know it."

Castiel blinks his confusion. Then--  
  
_Oh_.  
  
Castiel _had_ said the words out loud--and Dean must have heard them.  
  
_But I heard you too, Dean._  
  
More silence.  
  
_Does he know I heard him? He obviously knows exactly what I uttered, because he answered. And he... agreed?_  
  
Another moment of deafeningly loud silence. Then Dean clears his throat.  
  
"Uh, you ready then, buddy? We gotta lock'n'load an' haul ass. Long drive ahead, y'know...?" Dean states from the other side of the door, his tone now stiff, seemingly ignoring their previous interaction completely--as is his way.  
  
Castiel straightens up.  
  
_I've never heard Dean voice his feelings in that way, never so transparently… When he said_ 'don't I know it' _he meant_ 'me too'-- _didn't he?_

Castiel looks at the spider, safe in his corner.  
  
_Maybe he hadn't meant to say it, just as I hadn't meant to let my own words slip. And now all I hear is that awful and familiar panic in his voice._

Castiel easily pictures Dean's demeanour.  
  
_Forehead resting on the door panel, muscle memory forcing a hand up to rub over short bristles at the nape of tanned neck... other hand balled to a tight fist, muscles of the arm flexed, sinews taught... those incomparable seagrass eyes hidden, screwed shut in stale frustration at an ongoing battle with leashed, frightened emotions... and a glorious pink blush flushing upwards from chest to throat to sharp jawline and over exquisitely designed freckle constellations..._  
  
_Dean thinks I never catch sight of him like this. But I do._  
  
Castiel looks toward the door a third time and is at once overwhelmed by a terrible and wonderful human emotion.  
  
_I love Dean._

Castiel already knows this. But there is something _more_ to that feeling than the way, say, he loves Sam; something that sprouted in Hell and never stopped growing, winding its sturdy branches through Castiel's very being like the pagan's Tree of Life--and he's never quite known how best to care for it, until now.

 _I love Dean with every atom of this body, with every last drop of my grace, with everything I am, everything that makes me Castiel. Everything that makes me..._ Cas _._

 _His Cas._  
_  
__I love Dean in a way which means I am his and I won't ever, ever be anybody else's. I love Dean Winchester wholly and inexorably…_

 _Continually. For all future time. For always..._  
  
_Forever._  
  
_Castiel_ is suddenly aware he has been holding his breath--such a human thing to do.  
  
"Yes, Dean, sorry. I'll, um, I'll meet you in the garage." Castiel finally answers on his exhale, zipping his fly, fixing his tie and tossing the evidence of his fantasy into the trash. He begrudgingly knows he's following Dean's lead by simply moving past the awkwardly honest exchange of moments ago by saying nothing.  
  
_As usual._  
  
But this time, as he swings his legs off the bed and stands, smoothing out the bed sheets, there is the hint of a smile threatening the corner of Castiel's mouth. Because, as he hears Dean walking away from his bedroom door, Castiel realises he now has a far superior understanding of _forever_ , an even better grasp of this word's meaning than he ever did before, in all his billions of years. A more relatable understanding; a more human understanding.

_Another invaluable gift Dean has given to me._

As he stows away his angel blade in his shirt sleeve, Castiel realises.

_Forever--for Dean--means too long._

Castiel thinks he has some understanding of Dean's struggles with his feelings--especially with regards to Castiel's physical body _not_ appearing genderless to most, and Dean's ongoing fight with his past, his stunted upbringing. But completely sure or not, Castiel inherently knows there is _something_ between them. And Dean has just given him hope of reaching it.

Pulling out the wooden chair that was pushed under his bedside table, Castiel reaches up, gripping the spider in his hand--tight enough so it won't fall, gently enough to protect it. He'll take it outside and set it free, allowing it to make its own decision on whether to return or not.

Castiel opens the door and leaves his room, closing it firmly behind him. He then makes his way to join Dean and Sam in the Impala, the dull _thud-thud_ of his boot soles and _thwip_ of his trenchcoat echoing softly through the bunker's old corridors as they have many times before. This time though--even though Castiel knows it cannot be true--they sound a little different, somehow. The hint follows through on the threat and now a full and genuine smile adorns Castiel's permanent eight o'clock shadow as he turns a corner. Because Dean's whispered words have solidified Castiel's unsurity into a searing determination. He is now certain they have _both_ been waiting too long--and Castiel is more than ready to give his _forever_ to Dean.

And maybe-- _just maybe--_ Dean is finally ready to accept it.

Castiel doesn't have a game plan--he has absolutely no idea of how to confront Dean with his plight--but somehow, he knows he won't need one. Castiel has something far better than tactics.

He has _faith_.

**_Forever is our today_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Part ii of the series will be from Dean's POV--I cannot wait to get it finished and start on parts iii and iv! *deeply excited and hoping you are too*
> 
> Thank you tons for reading. Please leave me some lovely kudos and a comment if you want to scream at me... and find me on Tumblr: @all-or-nothing-baby
> 
> All the love,  
> Lucy <3


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